


A Beautiful Journey of Suffering -Two-  Stasis

by TheClassicalLolita



Series: A Beautiful Journey of Suffering [2]
Category: Avengers, X Men
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, F/M, X men - Freeform, maximoff twins, pietro maximoff - Freeform, pietro x oc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClassicalLolita/pseuds/TheClassicalLolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iskra struggles to re enter a world that's alien to her as tensions and frustrations rise between her and Pietro. Just when she thinks she finds a way to exist without the ghosts of her past, they return with a vengeance to haunt her.</p><p>**This is a work in progress and mostly unedited so please forgive any grammatical errors. I appreciate all comments, compliments and criticisms. I apologize if characters seem OOC or if historical/geographical references are incorrect. Thank you for reading!**</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beautiful Journey of Suffering -Two-  Stasis

People are neither inherently good or evil. The actions they take and decisions they make are almost always driven by what they think, in their heart, is the right thing to do. So how does one delineate between right and wrong? If a mother steals bread from a market to feed her children, is she a criminal? 

 

Things are infrequently black or white, but rather, fall somewhere on a spectrum of gray. A thing can be seen as either a gift or a curse, depending on the perspective. And sudden change can be the driving force a person needs to make necessary change in life, or the last push toward a descent into madness. 

 

Which is why Iskra refused to view her rapid relocation as anything more than simply, a  thing.

 

If she thought too long about the life she left behind, her mind became clouded. Pripyat was a toxic environment. Less so from the irradiated soil and genetically mutated wildlife. Pripyat meant solitude. Loneliness. Everywhere Iskra turned, she saw the ghosts of her past, crying out to be remembered. In her core, she knew that she couldn’t stay there forever. But squeezing her eyes shut against the image of the city crumbling while Pietro carried her away was not how she wanted to leave. 

 

Had HYDRA not destroyed it, would Iskra have been strong enough to leave Pripyat on her own? She didn’t know the answer. She wanted to think that yes, she would have one day left. Though, maybe not. Maybe Pietro would have grown tired of visiting her sad little world… 

 

And a part of Iskra wanted to hate Wanda for leading the jets to her home. But an opposing part of her wanted to thank Pietro’s twin. Wanda was a catalyst for inevitable and absolutely imperative change. All she did was set the gears into motion before Iskra had the opportunity to clear the rust away. 

 

What good did blind hate ever do a person anyway? 

 

So Iskra learned to forgive Wanda. For the destruction of Pripyat as well as for the words she’d spit at her. The words that still bit her deeply, burning out and turning confidence into self doubt. It was that doubt that, in part, kept Iskra from emerging from the apartment in Bucharest for several weeks. 

 

When she’d arrived, she had nothing but the clothes on her back. Not even shoes or a bra. Just the torn jeans she’d thrown on during Wanda’s intrusion, her pendant, and Pietro’s track jacket. It may have been for the best though, to make a clean break from the life she was leaving behind.

 

She’d sit by the window in their bedroom, smoking cigarette after cigarette from the packs that Pietro brought her. And she’d think about the good in people, as well as the bad. How both could exist, cancelling one another out in a dizzying dance that culminated in simply  existing. And Pietro would sit with her, telling her about the world outside the window. Telling her how it really wasn’t so scary, that people were kind and that Bucharest was a safe place to be. How she could disappear in the crowd if she wanted to. That they could be two faceless people in a faceless city, walking hand in hand through the market. But when Iskra leaned out the window and looked down at the cars and motorbikes passing beneath them, her breaths would turn to shaking frightened gasps and her fingers would ache from the electricity in her molecules. 

 

“You’ve got to come outside eventually,” he told her, trying desperately to hide the slight annoyance in his voice. 

 

Iskra just shook her head, stubbing her cigarette out and letting the butt fall into the street below. 

 

“But you could pick out your own clothes. I don’t even know if you like what I bring you,” Pietro argued, gesturing to the tank top Iskra wore. It had thin straps and little white stars on a black background. She  did like it. It was nicer than anything she’d ransacked from the dilapidated shops in Pripyat. “Dragӑ mea… It’s time to move on.”

 

Iskra considered the implications of his words carefully. Move on from the horrors she’d somehow lived through? Move on from HYDRA turning her into a monster then destroying her home? Those weren’t things that could so easily be forgotten. She could forgive Wanda, but not them. 

 

“Or you’ll kick me out?” she shot back, watching him as he leaned back against the frame of their bed, sitting across from her on the floor. 

 

“Nu, of course not!” He wasn’t shouting but his voice had taken a tone of desperation. “Just… you’re so hungry for revenge, but you can’t seem to summon the strength to walk with me to the market. You know I will protect you. I will keep you safe. A lot has changed since you put your walls up. It’s not so bad out there. You trust me, right?”

 

Iskra did trust him and the fact that he would even question it made her head spin. But she liked the simplicity that remained in her new life. No more did Pietro have to leave every night. He was there when she fell asleep and still there when she woke. There was no longer a ravenous need to make the best of the little time they had together, but it didn’t change the passionate way they made love when Wanda wasn’t home. 

 

And while her gardens had burned to ash, there was no shortage of food in the apartment. Iskra didn’t question how the twins paid for their home or food. When she needed something, it appeared. Life was good, but life was unchanging. 

 

Every day began and ended the same. While it was comfortable and easy, Iskra knew that there was so much more for her to accomplish than days filled with television and evenings filled with greedy sex. 

 

“Alright,” she shrugged, taking a deep breath. “You’ve been more than patient with me considering how slow the rest of the world must seem to you.” 

 

Pietro didn’t agree or disagree. Instead, he leaned close to her and kissed her softly. 

 

“I’m proud of you,” he told her, pulling her small frame into his arms. “You’re so beautiful, Iskra. I want to show the world how lucky a man I am to call you mine. How can I do that when you hide inside all day?” 

 

Iskra blushed. She still wasn’t used to anyone being so affectionate toward her. In truth, he’d been  extra sweet to her since she came to Bucharest. The three of them had, for the most part, ignored the elephant in the room. Pietro had intentionally neglected to inform Iskra and his sister of the other’s existence. She’d considered bringing it up, but she doubted her ability to hide the hurt in her voice and the twins were generous enough to let her stay with them… She shouldn’t start an argument. 

 

But it was clear that Wanda was still bitter. She smiled at Iskra when their paths crossed but rushed to leave the room when her brother slipped an arm around Iskra’s waist or planted a kiss on her cheek. 

 

And it made sense. It had been the two of them for quite awhile. Now there were three and jealousy hung in the air, as well as a hint of betrayal. 

 

“You’re too sweet, ‘Tro,” Iskra rested her head against his chest. He still smelled of fresh air and sweat from his morning run. “Take me wherever you like. I’ll follow.”

 

“We are out of bread. You can come with me to the market for more,” Pietro smirked. He was pleased that he was getting his way and his mind was wandering, considering the more creative ways he could interpret  Take me wherever you like. “Wanda will be pissed if we have soup with no bread for dinner tonight.” 

 

“Wouldn’t want to upset Wanda,” Iskra chuckled, brushing Pietro’s silver hair from his face but the curls just bounced back as soon as she let go. “Your sister can be something of a witch when she doesn’t get her way.” 

 

“That she can, dragǎ. That she can.” He looked down at her, his blue eyes latching on to her heart strings and refusing to let go. 

 

***

Staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Iskra pulled her long hair into a bun, fastening it with an elastic tie borrowed from Wanda. She shook her head from side to side slightly and the bun loosened, several strands brushing her shoulder. Frustrated, she pulled the elastic out and tried a high ponytail instead. But the weight of her hair tugged uncomfortably at her scalp and once again, she pulled the elastic and let her hair cascade down her back. 

 

“Pietro!” she called, pawing at the purple tresses. “Pietro, can you bring me scissors?”

 

“What do you need them for?” he asked, appearing in a blink to lean against the door frame and dangle the shears from his fingertip. “Did I leave a security tag on your dress again?”

 

Iskra raised an eyebrow. That sure confirmed her suspicions on how he could afford to outfit her in such nice things. The dress he’d brought for her was by no means designer, but it was made of a light airy material that couldn’t have been cheap. And the lovely leather boots she wore were genuine leather. They were almost identical to the ones she’d left behind in Pripyat and fit her feet like a glove. 

 

“I want to cut my hair. It’s too hot,” she whined, letting her hands fall against her sides. “And like you said, it’s time for a change. Will you help me?”

 

“I’m not so good at things like that. Are we not still going to the market today?” The grin fell from his face as the realization of what she was proposing dawned on him. “This can’t wait?” 

 

“We can still go. This wont take long,” she snatched the scissors from his hand, kissing his cheek gently at the same time. Pietro didn’t frequently wear the expression of a man caught off guard, but it was quite adorable. 

 

Taking a lock of hair in her hand, she sawed through it with the dull scissors. Strands fell around her feet in a plum colored pool and Pietro’s eyes widened. 

 

“It’s so short!” He exclaimed, reaching weakly for her to stop. “Are you sure about this?”

 

“I’m rising from the ashes of my old life, ‘Tro,” Iskra grinned wildly and handed him the scissors. “Nothing will be the same now. Just make the rest of it that same length. Please?”

 

Pietro sighed and stepped into the bathroom, standing behind her and peering at the mirror from over her head. He had liked her hair long. The shaved sides gave it personality but the way it clung to her skin when it was wet was beautiful. There was no going back now though, not with a massive chunk of hair already laying on the tile below. 

 

He ran his hands through the purple mess, dipping his head to kiss her neck. His fingertips rubbed tiny circles on her shoulder. He couldn’t really say no. Not when she was looking at him that way. So pleading… 

“Whatever you want, dragӑ,” he shrugged and grasped a chunk of her hair, holding it out between his fingers. After a few deep breaths, he snipped it away, matching the length she’d set with the initial cut. It really wasn’t so hard but anxiety still coursed through his veins. What if she hated it? What if she blamed him for fucking it up? “Like this?”

 

Iskra smiled. She tried to hold perfectly still while he worked but as the hair fell, so did a massive weight from her shoulders and she wanted so badly to jump for joy. It was just as cathartic as she’d hoped. It didn’t matter so much what the finished hairstyle looked like, just that it was  different . She was a different person now. Learning to be strong and confident, one tiny step at a time. 

 

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, watching in the mirror as his speed picked up. When his hands moved away, she ran her hands over her head. It was still long enough to cover her eyes if she brushed it forward but she rather liked how it looked piled messily atop her head. 

 

“Well fuck,” Pietro slumped forward, tossing the shears into the sink. “That was hard…”

 

Iskra chuckled and spun on her heels to face him. His cheeks were pink with frustration but it only took several quick kisses to bring the smirk back to his lips. “Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t hard at all.”

 

Pietro just rolled his eyes and gestured for her to exit the bathroom, giving her ass a gentle smack on the way out. “Go get your bag from the bedroom while I clean this mess up.”

 

Iskra thanked him and turned down the hall. Her bag though? She didn’t have a bag. There had never been a need for a purse in Pripyat. Sometimes she carried a sack when it was time to harvest the vegetables from the garden, but that couldn’t have been what he meant. 

 

But there was, in fact, a handbag resting on the bed. It was a small leather backpack with an intricately embroidered flap. She hadn’t remembered it being there before, but nothing surprised her anymore. It wasn’t uncommon for object to appear or disappear, sometimes right before her eyes. However there was usually a grinning Pietro somewhere nearby when she stumbled across a gift like this. 

 

“Are you going to open it or just stare at it?” he asked from beside her. 

 

“You don’t have to keep doing things like this for me…” Iskra told him as she crossed the room, curiosity getting the better of her. What could Pietro possibly deem important enough to stock in a purse for her?

 

“I like doing things for you,” he laughed. “And it’s good to have something to keep your things in if you’re going to start coming to the market with me.” 

 

She pulled the drawstring and upturned the bag, emptying its contents onto the bed. Most of the items were relatively commonplace. A tube of lipstick, her cigarettes and lighter, even a few tampons and a bottle of pain medicine. But two things stuck out. One was a cell phone and the other was a roll of cash, held together with a rubber band. 

 

Iskra just stared at Pietro, holding the items in her hands. 

 

“If we ever get separated or you need me when I’m not home, you can call. I saved my phone number and Wanda’s. I’d have given you one sooner but there are no cell towers in Pripyat,” he explained. “I got you an older one for now. I hope that’s okay. I can show you how to make calls and send text messages. Figured this might be more like the ones you’ve seen before. The ones they make now… they’re like little computers Iskra, it’s amazing! If you want one like that I can-”

 

“Why do I need all this money?” she cut him off. The phone made sense. It was a good idea to have a line of communication open at all times. But what did she need money for?

 

“You use it to buy things you want,” Pietro closed the distance between them, scooping up the objects and tucking them away in the bag once more. “I can bring you what you want, but you should be able to buy things on your own too. I can’t always know your needs. But don’t let people in the market see how much is here. Just take out a bit at a time. I’ll teach you how to talk to people. They tell you a price but you can almost always get what you want for less in Bucharest.” 

 

“Why… do you do this?” Iskra asked, handing him the money to put back in the handbag. She slid her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “I never wanted to be a hassle for you. Or for Wanda. Yet you do everything for me. I’m so inept, Pietro. I don’t know how the world works anymore. I’ve fallen out of touch.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” his tone softened as he hugged her back, hands resting in the small of her back. “You’re not a hassle and you never were. Let me try to explain… I know how hard it is to have your life shaken up, turned all upside down. It’s not so easy to find your feet again. When Wanda and I left the HYDRA facility, nothing was the same as when we went in. HYDRA has a way of freezing time. I know you know this. Years can go by and you don’t even know. You turn around and everything is different. And it’s scary. All you can think about for a long time is how much they hurt you. But the world keeps turning, with or without us. So you try to step back onto that spinning thing and sometimes you fall down. I had my sister to pick me back up. And now you have me. You have me and Wanda both. You don’t have to carry all this alone and I don’t care how many times I have to remind you. I know sometimes I get angry or annoyed, but I try not to, with you. I want to take care of you, Iskra. Show you that you do have a family.”

 

Tears welled in Iskra’s eyes so she pawed at them with the backs of her hands. She’d seen first hand, thanks to Wanda, the impact that HYDRA had on the twins. But she hadn’t seen the aftermath. The tears and eventually, the rebuilding. They both seemed so sure footed, so rock hard and unshakeable. 

 

“No one’s ever been so kind to me. Not even Dimitri-” She began, but Pietro’s body stiffened against her and he pulled her away by her shoulders to look her in the eye. 

 

“I am a jealous man, dragӑ mea. And while I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, maybe is best not to speak of them at all.” He drove his point home with a rough kiss, one that melted her at her core despite the hungry way his tongue darted past her lips and claimed her mouth entirely. “I do not wish to be compared to those you’ve loved before.”

 

“You have all of me, Pietro. For as long as you want me,” she smiled but her heart sank slightly at the sudden and furious envy that overtook him. “Shall we go to the market…?”

 

“Da,” he nodded, kissing her again much more gently. “Let’s go find some fresh bread. Together.”

 

***

 

“You have your phone?” Pietro asked, reaching for the front door of the apartment building. The last barrier between Iskra and the rest of the world. 

 

She nodded. 

 

“And you remember how to call me? And how to send a text?” His hand encircled the door knob, turning it slowly. Fresh air rushed in through the small crack. 

 

Iskra nodded again. Excitement and fear boiled in her, turning her stomach and making her hands shake. They were just going to the market for bread. It wasn’t as if she had to spend a prolonged period of time away from the apartment. And Pietro would be there the entire time, ready to pick her up and run home if it became too much to handle. 

 

Her hand stretched out before her, past Pietro. Pale fingers hooked around the crack in the door, pulling it open the rest of the way. He’d been right. The rest of the world had kept turning while Iskra had locked herself away, too immersed in her own suffering to pay it any mind. 

 

A cobblestone street wound through the buildings, bustling with all sorts of people. Many of them carried bags, some carried children. A few even looked up to smile at the couple standing in the threshold of their home. Pietro slipped his fingers between Iskra’s and gave her arm a slight tug, urging her to step out onto the street. 

 

She watched her boot swing out from the step, coming to rest atop the stones. The shaking in her hands stopped and the breeze kissed her cheek. Or maybe it was Pietro, moving too quickly to be seen. 

 

You can do this. You have to do this. Swallow your hurt and just. get. on. with. life. 

 

“This way,” Pietro told her softly, tugging on her again to lead her away from the apartment. Past homes and shops and small cafes where people sat and ate together, laughing. Her thoughts wandered back to the day she’d left Pripyat for just a bit and the fire in Pietro’s eyes when those men had shouted at her. Her fingers tightened around his hand. “Are you good?”

 

“Yes,” she said simply. The sky was the same blue as it had been in Ukraine. The same clouds as well. But the horizon gave way to buildings and bustling life rather than ruined structures long since deserted.

 

And she could feel it in the air. The way voices carried on the wind and the smells of freshly cooked food wafted from the windows of homes. It was overstimulating, yes, but Iskra’s fingertips didn’t ache. For now, her power slept deep inside her, where it should be. 

 

“If this goes well, can we can get wine to celebrate?” she asked, looking up at Pietro as they walked. He smirked and she silently admired the way the mischievous expression pulled at his features. 

 

“We can get whatever you like, dragӑ.” He chuckled as they rounded the street corner. The corridor of buildings opened up into a sprawling town square. Vendors had set up shop around the massive fountain at the square’s center. 

 

Iskra hadn’t realized that the apartment was so close to the market. Or maybe she’d just been so focused on the sights and sounds that she hadn’t paid any mind to how long they’d been walking. Just like how she hadn’t paid any mind to the fact that her feet had stopped moving. She was just staring open mouthed, eyes flitting back and forth between the various tables of food and clothing. Pietro laughed beside her. Not his usual chuckle, but a deep side splitting howl that was definitely drawing a few looks from passersby. 

 

“What’s so funny?” She demanded, tearing her hand from his to slap his shoulder. 

 

“Is just,  your face!”  He had to wipe the tears from his eyes as he spoke and take several long breaths to collect himself. Even then, his English was dissolving in his accent as he spoke. “You like… like… kid in candy shop!”

 

“Oh shut up, you ass,” she shook her head, slapping him again. She wished she’d had an umbrella or a cane to smack him with, just like how her mother had done when Iskra acted up. But something caught her eye and much like the child he’s compared her to, she was suddenly wandering toward it. The sun glinted off of it, calling to her, just past a group of older women chatting. 

 

Pietro had been so absorbed in his laughter that he almost missed her slipping away, her dress billowing behind her in the wind. He followed, mesmerized as well, though not by the object she’d spied. He’d seen her in the forest, eyes transfixed on the reflection of her own raw power on the lake’s surface. And he’d seen her beneath him, blushing and panting with unbridled desire. But watching her milky legs move through the town square, powder blue taffeta encircling them in an ethereal halo, was new. She looked like an angel.

 

The other girls milling about the market may have well been cattle, compared to how he saw Iskra. Light seemed to emanate from her like an aura. She was his, and he jogged to catch up to her, slipping an arm around her waist protectively. Her hips tilted towards his touch but her eyes stayed transfixed on the merchant’s table. It took him a moment to pinpoint what she was staring at and when he did, Pietro didn’t quite understand.

 

“I want them,” Iskra sighed, lifting the two egg sized metal balls from their case. Tiny sparks of black lightning danced over them and the realization dawned on him. He swiftly snatched them away. 

 

“How much?” he asked the vendor, already digging in his pockets. 

 

“20 lie,” the old man behind the table replied, eyes too clouded with cataracts to have possibly seen the magic blossoming in Iskra’s palms. 

 

Pietro tossed the money on the table and tucked the balls back into their box then slipped the entire package into his jacket. He grasped Iskra’s upper arm, yanking her away from the table a bit roughly. When he let go, she rubbed her shoulder, shooting him an icy glare. 

 

“You’ll get them when we get home,” he told her then leaned closer to her ear. “These are a weapon in your hands, dragӑ, and this is a bad place to figure that out. Copper is very conductive.”

 

“Alright but you said not to pay the full price for things, ‘Tro…” she looked from where he’d hidden her new toys to the stony expression on his face. 

 

“Sometimes the full price is okay. These will prove useful, I think. But don’t just go walking away from me like that, you hear me?” he demanded.

 

“‘M sorry,” Iskra hung her head, not fond of the feeling of being scolded but excited to get her copper balls back and figure out why they concerned him so much. 

 

Pietro sighed. “Nu, is okay. I’m sorry I hurt your arm. Just try not to wander away from me, my little lightning bug.”

 

Iskra shrugged. “Yeah, we should stay together…” She was surprised at how well she was handling being out in public and it was a little disappointing that Pietro wasn’t praising her for it. Then again, it probably wasn’t common to receive praise for being able to perform simple tasks such as going to the market for bread. Still, it would be nice.

 

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. What if you called out for me and I couldn’t hear you?” he was obviously still upset and Iskra really didn’t want to keep talking about it. She’d gotten the point. She wasn’t to wander away from him, even when he could clearly see her walking toward a vendor. She rolled her eyes and he huffed. 

 

“I’ll stay by your side,” she told him. Even though that was kind of why he gave her the bell. Even though she’d eventually have to learn to be independant. 

 

“Good. Let’s get the bread and go home. I think you’ve had quite enough excitement for today,” Pietro took her hand in his once again and started towards a table piled high with baked goods. 

 

Iskra sighed, anger starting to bubble in her. She didn’t appreciate being treated like a child. And the worst part was that he  seemed to trust her enough to have a phone and her own money. Maybe she was making a big deal out of nothing. Still… 

 

“I’m fine, Pietro. I don’t want to go home yet,” she tore her hand free from his grasp but still walked at his side. “I want to look at clothes. You gave me that money to pick things out that I like. For myself. And I would have bought the copper balls but-”

 

“Alright,” he cut her off sharply. “Go then. There’s a dress merchant right over there. I’ll get the bread and meet you there. But stay where I can see you, prințesă.”

 

Iskra’s voice hitched in her throat, unable to determine whether the word was meant as a pet name or a slight. It stung nonetheless, so she turned and headed towards the table he’d pointed out. “Great!” she called over her shoulder, straightening her back as she walked. 

 

She’d show him just how self sufficient she could be when she bought herself a new outfit for under the ticket price. Then he’d be proud of her. He’d have to be. 

 

As she approached the table, the merchant smiled at her. Iskra returned the greeting, raising her hand slightly in a wave. Her eyes scanned the table, searching for anything that was the exact opposite of what Pietro would buy for her. Maybe something floral.

 

“Looking for anything in particular today?” the man asked her, smoothing his long blonde hair back. “I’ve got quite a selection of dresses in your size.”

 

“Um,” Iskra began, still unsure how to speak to strangers. “I’d like a skirt with flowers. And something long… past my knees?”

 

“Well sure,” he turned in his chair to dig through a basket beside him. From it, he pulled a powder pink skirt with red daisies dotting the fabric. It cinched around the waist with a drawstring. “Like this?”

 

“Do you have it in another color?” She didn’t know if she was being too specific, but it was worth a shot. She just didn’t much care for pink. 

 

“I believe so, let me take a look,” he returned to the basket, his hair falling in front of his face. Iskra smiled. He seemed like a sweet man, willing and eager to help. 

 

In the meantime, she picked up a teal tanktop. It was simple but it looked like it would fit her well and the fabric was incredibly soft. When the merchant sat up again, he was holding a black skirt. 

 

“It’s not flowers, but I think it would look lovely on you,” he unfolded it on the table. Near the bottom hem was a beautiful pattern of peacock feathers, sewn with iridescent thread. The shades of purple and green caught the light, shimmering. “Do you like it, dragӑ?” 

 

“Oh I do! It’s perfect!” Iskra nearly squealed. The skirt reminded her of the ones her mother used to wear. “How much for it and this top?”

 

“Twelve lie? How does that sound?” he was already reaching for a bag, obviously convinced that Iskra couldn’t walk away without owning the skirt. Which was true...

 

“Um, how about ten?” she countered, remembering that she had promised herself that she wouldn’t pay the asking price, just like Pietro had instructed her. 

 

The merchant smiled, folding the skirt and placing it in the bag along with the teal tank top. “Sold. Wear it in good health, păpuşă.”

 

“Oh I will! Thank you!” Iskra handed him the money and took the handles of the bag. When she turned to leave, she very nearly walked into Pietro’s chest. He didn’t look pleased at all. 

 

“Did you get the bread?” she asked, taking a step back. 

 

He just glared at her. No sly smirk, just a firm arm around her waist, leading her away. When they were far enough from the hustle and bustle of the market not to be heard, Pietro stopped.

 

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he hissed at her, turning to stare icy daggers. 

 

Iskra just blinked for a moment. “I bought some clothes. And I paid less for them. Like you said to.”

 

“That man was practically eating you up and you just let him! Did you like the attention? Was that it? He calls you sweet things and suddenly you swoon?” his words cut like a knife but he looked wounded. “That’s all it takes, eh? Now you don’t need me anymore.”

 

Her jaw fell open and Iskra could feel her fingers tightening around the bag in her hand. “It’s not like that…” she tried to remain calm. He just misunderstood. That was all. 

 

“I know far more about this world than you do. You don’t have to tell me what it’s like. I can see it clear as day. You gain some independence and replace me. I should have known,” he looked away, his jaw tightening with the rage that was creeping up his spine. 

 

“Pietro!” Iskra snapped, reaching out and slapping him hard across the cheek. Lightning arched, making brief contact with his skin and leaving a small burn. “You shut up! You don’t get to treat me like a child then accuse me of running around on you with a dress merchant! I bought an outfit, not opened my legs for the man! You talk about trust, well you should trust me too. But no, you’re too wrapped up in yourself. You’re a terribly jealous thing, you know that? I’m sorry but I’m not like you and your sister.” 

 

“How can I trust you when I see another man calling you dragӑ?” he threw his arms up in defeat, nearly dropping the package of bread. “You were supposed to be mine!”

 

“I was!” she threw the bag at his chest, the skirt falling to the cobblestone at their feet. Angry tears stung her eyes. She felt betrayed. The one person in the world that mattered to her was making absolutely ridiculous allegations against her and it hurt. It hurt a lot. “Just leave me alone, okay? I can’t even look at you right now.”

 

Iskra brushed past him, heading back towards the apartment. She knew that he could catch up to her in a fraction of a second, but he didn’t. With every step that she took, the distance between them grew and her heart sank further. He let her walk away.

 

Keeping her eyes straight ahead, Iskra resisted the urge to look over her shoulder to see if he was still standing there. The burn on his cheek would heal quickly, but she couldn’t help but imagine him watching her go, hand over his face and tears in his eyes. 

 

She pushed the door of the apartment hard enough to send the doorknob crashing into the wall. The hinges squeaked in protest and Wanda looked up from where she sat reading on the couch. Her eyes widened when she realized Iskra was alone, a red haze glimmering over her corneas. 

 

“Where is Pietro?” she asked simply, unmoving. 

 

“We had a fight,” Iskra coughed and crossed the living room in several long strides, slamming the bedroom door behind her. She turned the lock and crawled onto the bed, reaching for Pietro’s headphones on the night stand. Plugging them into the jack on her phone, she flipped through the various icons on the screen, hoping there was a radio or something that she could listen to. 

 

With the volume on high, Iskra reclined on the pillows and closed her eyes. It had been a very long time since she’d heard the radio spoken and sung in her native tongue and it was soothing. It brought back happy memories of her mother singing to her in Romanian. 

 

She curled her body into a tight ball and laid on her side, watching the sunset through the window. When Pietro came home, he’s probably break the door down and make her leave for talking back to him. It broke her heart, but she’d survive. She’d survived worse. And while he embodied everything that truly mattered to her, she could live without him. 

 

Or at least… I think I can. 

 

But several hours passed and the door remained upright, the lock still turned, separating her from both Maximoffs. At one point, when her phone had blinked  low battery at her, she’d gotten up to plug it into the charger and thought she’d heard hushed voices from the living room. Iskra couldn’t separate the words though, so she put the headphones back in and returned to her fetal position. 

 

Her eyes were getting heavy when the phone screen lit up, displaying a new text message from Wanda. 

 

Aren’t you going to come out? He’s been sitting by the door for hours.  It read. 

 

He was sitting by the door? Why didn’t he pick the lock or just break it off the hinges?

 

I don’t want to… Iskra typed back. 

 

Wanda’s reply came almost immediately. 

 

Can’t you hear him calling to you? 

 

Iskra took the headphones out and crawled to the edge of the bed. The same voices she’d heard before were still mumbling from the other side of the wall. Sliding to her hands and knees on the carpet, she moved closer to the door as quietly as possible. It was Pietro’s voice after all, hoarse and low, but definitely his. 

 

“ Ieși , ieși , dragostea mea . Iarta-ma,”  It was spoken in somewhat of a chant, almost like a chant or lullaby. “Iskra…”

 

Her heart was breaking. How long was he sitting there? Her phone lit up in her hand again. 

 

He told me what happened. My brother is incredibly stupid but he loves you. Let him in. I’m sick of listening to him whimper. He’s suffered enough.

 

“ Ieși , ieși , dragostea mea . Iarta-ma,”  he kept singing.

 

“Pietro?” she called, her hand on the doorknob. The light from under the door shifted. He must have stood up. She spun the lock and stood as well, backing up to give him enough room to swing the door out without hitting her with it. 

 

“Can I come in?” he asked, opening the door just a crack. She nodded and he stepped in, shutting it behind him. “I’m so sorry, Iskra. I fucked up big time. I should have never said those things. Please forgive me? I need you.”

 

His eyes were red and watery and his voice was pleading. He held his hands out to her, palms up. Iskra pushed them away, opting instead to wrap her arms around his waist. At first his body was rigid, but he softened, returning the embrace. 

 

“I’m sorry I hit you,” she sighed against his chest. “But you deserved it.”

 

“I deserved far more than a slap across the face,” Pietro’s tone was wavering, as though he were on the verge of crying. Iskra tightened her arms. 

 

“I’m not going to leave you for a dress merchant, ‘Tro. Or anyone, for that matter,” she let go of him so that she could look up at his puffy eyes. “You have to trust me too.” 

 

“I will. I’m sorry,” his calloused hands ran through his hair and he offered her a tiny smile. She returned it then stood on her toes to kiss the tiny burn she’d left on his cheek bone. It was healing already, thanks to his metabolism. “We saved some soup for you. Would you like it now?”

 

Iskra nodded. She hadn’t really thought about it but she’d not had anything to eat all day, and her stomach was growling. Soup sounded absolutely amazing. Pietro turned to leave the room but she caught his arm. 

“You should thank your sister, you know.” She said quietly, her hand slipping down his arm to intertwine her fingers in his. “She convinced me to open the door.”

 

He agreed that he would and led her into the kitchen. Wanda was still reading on the sofa. When her eyes met Iskra’s, she smiled. It may have been the first genuine smile ever exchanged between the two.

 

“Im off to bed,” Wanda exclaimed, yawning as she set her book on the coffee table. “Thanks for getting the bread today, you two.” 

 

Iskra swore she caught the twin winking at her as she headed towards her bedroom. She owed Wanda thanks as well. Without her messages, Iskra could have easily spend all night locked in the bedroom, deaf to Pietro’s pleading. 

 

“I went back for the wine,” Pietro said, drawing Iskra’s attention back to the dining room table where he’d placed a bowl of soup and several slices of bread. 

 

“What?” Iskra looked up at him. 

 

“You asked if we could get wine if you did well today. And you did. Just because I acted like a fool doesn’t mean you don’t deserve your wine,” he explained, pouring her a glass of the sweet smelling ruby liquid. “So I went back for it. I brought your clothes too.”

 

“Thank you,” Iskra took her seat at the table and raised her glass of wine to her lips. It tasted like raspberries but it burned her throat when she swallowed. “Are you eating too? Or did you eat with Wanda?”

 

Pietro was still standing in the kitchen, watching her over the bar. When she asked, he seemed to remember himself and nod as he grabbed another bowl from the cupboard. 

 

“I wanted to wait to eat with you,” he pulled a chair out and sat beside Iskra. “Wanda made the soup tonight. I was going to… but I was afraid that it I got up, you’d hear that I stopped talking to you and think I gave up.”

 

“You were out there the whole time?” Iskra’s spoon fell from her hand, clattering into the bowl and sending droplets of broth onto the table cloth. “And you shouldn’t have waited on me. You could get sick if you don’t eat, ‘Tro.”

 

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was,” he spoke between bites of soup soaked bread. “I could wait to eat. Is okay.”

 

Iskra laughed, taking another sip of wine then reaching across the table to refill Pietro’s glass. “You’re ridiculous, dragut.”

“Iskra, if you feel comfortable with it, you can go out on your own,” Pietro offered. It was obvious that he didn’t really want to give her that much freedom, but he was trying. The corners of his mouth twitched and he looked at the reflection in his soup. “Just… it would be nice if you could let me know where you’re going. And maybe not go too far. Is that reasonable?”

 

“Yes,” Iskra finished her soup and poured herself another glass of wine. “Hey, do you remember when we drank all that vodka in Pripyat?” 

 

Pietro laughed. “How could I forget?” Images of her leaning drunkenly against him danced through his head, as well as memories of what followed. “Did you want to play the game again?”

 

“No it’s not that. I was just thinking about… ,” she began him, rounding the table and placing her hands on Pietro’s shoulders. “You never gave up on me. And I made it pretty hard on you.”

 

“ ‘S what?” he shrugged, the alcohol thickening his accent. “We’re here now. Is all that matters, to live each day the best we can.”

 

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” she sank to her knees, resting her elbows against his and looking up at him. 

 

He bit his lower lip involuntarily. His brain knew she was trying to be sincere but the wine had made her unaware of how the strap of her dress slipped off her shoulder, exposing the swell of her upper breast. Or how her lips were stained red and shiny. They looked incredibly inviting. 

 

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered, bending at the waist to kiss her as his hand swept through her hair, then dropping down to caress her partially exposed breast. Iskra moaned into his mouth and in a tenth of a second, his hand had taken the place of his lips, silencing her. “Shh! Wanda will hear.” 

 

Iskra used the opportunity to capture his middle finger in her mouth, encircling it with her tongue and drawing it deep into her throat. Pietro gasped as her lips reached the base of his finger, sucking it hard. She let him draw his hand away, but slowly.

 

And then he was lifting her up, carrying her into the bedroom and setting her down on the bed. “We must be quiet,” he told her as she reached to unzip his jacket. 

 

“Then I have an idea,” she stood up and walked past him, into the bathroom. Iskra wasn’t sure if the adjoined en suite was common in apartments, but it was certainly convenient. She turned the faucet on the shower and undressed while Pietro watched her, understanding her idea as soon as she’d turned on the water. 

 

A sexy grin crept across his face and before Iskra could turn around, he was already nude and  lifting her dress over her head. His lips caught hers as he lifted her by the waist, stepping into the stream of warm water. Her hands flew to his platinum hair as her back hit the shower wall. After a few moments, her feet found the floor and he let her stand, stepping back slightly to admire the way the water dripped down her. He followed the droplets with his mouth, mapping every contour of her body. 

 

“Pietro,” Iskra moaned and he shot her a piercing glance from where he was nibbling her inner thigh. He didn’t need to tell her to be quiet, she got the point. She bit her lip harshly to keep from crying out.

 

“I can’t tell if it’s the water or if you’re wet for me already, dragӑ mea,” he whispered, wasting no time as his mouth found her clit and he inserted a finger inside her. 

 

Iskra’s legs felt weak and her hips rocked against him. He pushed a second finger into her and she very nearly screamed. It almost felt like he was  vibrating . A knot was forming in her stomach and she knew she wouldn’t last long if he kept it up. 

 

“How are you doing that?” she gasped, one hand still tugging his hair as the other found his cock and stroked it quickly. “You’re going to make me… oh fuck Pietro.”

 

“Not yet,” he breathed against her, lapping at her tiny bud of nerve endings. But the vibration stopped and soon his lips were at her neck instead. “Benefits of moving fast, I suppose. I’m glad it worked. None of this though, you’ll make me cum.”

 

He grasped her wrist and pinned it to the tile wall as he aligned his hips with hers and pushed himself into her gently. Iskra moaned against his neck, trying for the life of her to be quiet but failing. His thrusts picked up speed, but he didn’t seem to be struggling with the effort not to use his powers this time. 

 

“Uita-te la mine,” Pietro moaned, nuzzling her face until she looked up at him. “Ești toată lumea mea.” 

 

Iskra’s hands cradled his cheeks and she was glad for the shower. It hid the tears that formed in her eyes. Pietro had been important to her since day one, but the expression that ruled his features was one of complete and unbridled love. 

 

“You’re my world too. But you’ve got to know that,” her words were punctuated with gasps. He was well aware that she was teetering on the edge of orgasm so he reached a hand between them to rub her clit with his fingertips. His own climax wasn’t far off either and once her fingernails raked down his back and her teeth bit his shoulder to keep quiet, he couldn’t help but explode. 

 

Even as he filled her with his hot fluids, he still didn’t pound into her harshly. Instead he held her, kissing her gently as his body quivered. 

 

“Do you think we woke your sister?” Iskra asked when she was finally capable of speech again. 

 

“Maybe. If so, I’ll hear it from her in the morning,” Pietro laughed. “Let’s get you dried off before the water runs cold, prințesă.” 

 

Maybe it had just been a pet name, back in the market. Iskra turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, letting Pietro take great care in drying her off with a soft towel. She yawned, ringing her hair out over the sink. 

 

“You’ve had a long day, Iskra. We both have. Are you ready for bed?” he asked, standing behind her and enveloping her in his strong arms. Iskra nodded and sent a small bolt of lightning at the light switch on their way out of the bathroom. The room fell dark, but the bulb didn’t explode. She was gaining control by leaps and bounds now. 

 

Pietro pulled the blanket back, allowing Iskra to climb into bed. Once she had, he curled around her, his body heat drying whatever moisture still clung to them.

 

“I love you, and I’m sorry about today,” he whispered, nestling into the sheets. 

 

“I love you too,” Iskra replied, holding his hand against her chest, grateful that he’d still be there when she woke up in the morning. “And I forgive you.”

 

***

 

A warm hand shook Iskra’s shoulder gently and she opened her eyes, blinking them several times to clear the sleep away. Pietro was fully dressed and sitting cross legged on the bed, smiling down at her. 

 

“Good morning,” he beamed. “Do you want to go running with me? Also Wanda made coffee and left you a cup.”

 

Iskra stretched, her muscles still stiff from having not moved in a good many hours. She wanted to put a pillow over her face and go back to sleep but the sun was filling up the bedroom. So instead, she sat up, pulling the sheet around her to cover her chest. 

 

“Go running with you? Why? You’d lap me a hundred times over,” Iskra yawned, rubbing her face. 

 

Pietro just laughed and zipped away, returning a moment later with the steaming mug of coffee. He handed it to her, along with her pack of cigarettes and a lighter. His speed was definitely useful…

 

“You can run if you want to, or you could sit in the shade and read. The fresh air would be good for you,” he opened the window as she lit her cigarette, making a grand show of how nice of a day it was. “I can’t use my power at the track anyway. Not when other people are around. What do you say, dragӑ mea?”

 

Iskra considered his invitation. It was obvious that he was trying to make up for the previous day’s mistakes and it would be wrong of her not to at least try. “Alright. But I don’t have any running shoes, ‘Tro.”

 

“Easy fix!” Pietro exclaimed. “We will stop on the way there and you can buy some.”

 

“Alright fine,” Iskra conceded with a sigh. But it wasn’t for another thirty minutes that she actually summoned the energy to get dressed and get out the door. Physical exercise would probably do her a whole lot of good. She got out plenty in Pripyat, but Bucharest was different. 

 

In the several weeks that she’d lived in the apartment, most of her time was consumed with books and television. Sometimes she would imitate the new age yoga instructors on daytime programming, but mostly she sat on the sofa. Now and again, Wanda would join her but tension still hung in the air between them. At least, it did. Maybe not as much now that Wanda had helped patch things up between her brother and Iskra. 

 

Which brought Iskra to another interesting thought as she follow Pietro down the street. Where did the twins go during the day? There seemed to be no real schedule to their comings and goings and while sometimes she asked, mostly she didn’t. If they didn’t feel the need to tell her about their lives, she didn’t need to know.

 

But it did bother her slightly. If they were digging up more intel on HYDRA, she  should be included. Though, what kind of an asset was she if she could barely leave the apartment? 

 

Pietro stopped suddenly and Iskra nearly walked straight into his back, still lost in thought. “This is the place,” he told her, reaching out to open the door to the shop. Mannequins wearing all varieties of athletic wear stood proudly in the window and Iskra was drawn in by their blank stares. They must watch so many people walk by every day. Silently observing the world and unable to speak. 

 

Iskra stepped inside and was immediately assaulted by the smell of sweat and polyester. She blinked several times and looked around. 

 

“Can I help you?” The woman behind the counter asked. She was tall and lean, with short blonde hair that was slicked back against her head. When she spoke, she looked down her glasses and an air of superiority rolled off of her. 

 

“I… I-” Iskra stammered, intimidated by the woman’s demeanor. Pietro slid between them, back straight and shoulders back as though he were  protecting her. Iskra had to stifle a laugh. 

 

“We are looking for running shoes,” he interjected, accent thicker than ever. “For my girlfriend, here.” 

 

The woman pursed her lips and led them to the lady’s side of the store. As she walked, the muscles of her calves strained against her lycra leggings and Iskra felt a pang of jealousy towards her physique. While Iskra was at home watching sitcoms, this woman was probably running marathons and lifting weights. 

 

If she were the one with powers, Pietro wouldn’t bother with me.

 

The thought was spontaneous but once her mind had conjured it, it clung to her like glue and made her stomach feel sour. Her hands balled into fists and suddenly, she very badly wanted to learn how to use the copper balls they’d bought in the market. She could feel her cheeks flushing with anger. 

 

They could run together. Not like me, fat and wibbly and  lazy.  If she were the one with powers…

 

“I said, what size shoe do you wear?” the woman scoffed. Iskra wasn’t sure how many times she’d asked before she snapped back to reality. Pietro was giving her a strange look. He’d probably noticed the painfully obvious redness in her cheeks or the tiny arcs of black lightning crawling over the backs of her hands. 

 

“I’m not sure,but I’ll figure it out myself.” Iskra snapped. “Thank you.”

 

The woman rolled her eyes and left them to the wall of shoes. Iskra sat down on one of the benches and slipped her boots off. On the floor was a ruler diagram displaying units of measurement and how they translated to shoe size. She placed her foot over it and wiggled her toes. 

 

“Looks like I wear a thirty nine,” she smiled up at Pietro. “Can I try those black ones with the purple laces?”

 

Pietro bent over to find her size. When he did, he knelt at her feet and started pulling the shoes from the box. “So what was that?” he asked, loosening the laces before slipping it on her foot for her. 

 

“What?” Iskra feigned ignorance. She rolled her ankle to and fro then stood up, bouncing on her toes. “This feels weird.”

 

“It’s going to,” Pietro laughed. “You’re used to big heavy boots, dragӑ. They look like they fit well. Are you going to tell me what’s the matter?”

 

She pushed her other foot into the other shoe and Pietro tied the laces for her. Taking several test runs down the length of the store and back, Iskra nodded. They’d do fine but running shoes took a bit of getting used to, apparently. As did social interaction. 

 

“Nothing is wrong. That woman was just rude,” she replied finally. “Let’s go.”

 

Pietro shrugged and followed her to the counter. He stuck close by her as she paid, even going so far as to plant a kiss on her cheek before they left. The store keeper seemed unphased, which was what he expected. She hadn’t flirted with him at all. Quite the opposite really. So it seemed as though the issue was with Iskra’s perception.

 

“C’mon Iskra. You’re not going to tell me what upset you?” he asked again, slinging her boots over his shoulder as they continued down the sidewalk. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

“That’s not it at all. I just don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?” Iskra smiled but she was still struggling with the burning in her palms. “But you’re mine, got it?”

 

Pietro chuckled and a knowing smirk spread across his lips. He slid an arm around Iskra’s waist, pulling her close as they walked and nearly knocking her off balance. “Desigur, dragostea mea.”

 

***

 

Iskra’s lungs felt as though they were on fire, but she pushed her legs harder. One foot in front of the next, over and over. Her breaths came in hard gasps but she refused to give up just yet. 

 

Long about the fifth lap, she finally gave in. Collapsing in the grass beside the track, Iskra’s sweat soaked hair hung in her face and she thought she might vomit. 

 

“Your time is getting better!” Pietro tossed her a bottle of water which she promptly chugged most of immediately. She shook her head, panting. Her time sucked and she knew it. Even without his powers, he had to slow down significantly to match her pace. He wasn’t even breathing heavy. 

 

“Go on without me for a bit. I need a rest,” she waved her hand dismissively and finished her water. “I’ll watch from here.”

 

Pietro looked slightly disappointed but shrugged and headed back to the track. Watching him run was much more her speed. She leaned back against a tree, looking up at the sky. The sun was high and hot and she was probably already sunburned. But it was nice to be out. 

 

It was getting easier each time and even when she  did get pissed, it was getting easier not to lash out. Iskra knew full well that she could have killed the woman in the shoe store. Her thoughts returned to how badly she wanted to explore her abilities with the copper balls. She’d have had the chance already if not for the emotional fallout after their expedition to the market. 

 

Sitting up, Iskra was getting ready to call out for Pietro, but she realized she didn’t see him on the track anymore. 

 

“Pietro?” her voice sounded panicked. There weren’t many people around, but she scanned each of their faces. An older woman walking the track slowly and a family having a picnic over by the tree line. No signs of her companion. 

 

“Pietro?” she called again, standing up in hopes of having a better view of the track. 

 

There. 

 

A blur against the dark asphalt. Iskra let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding onto. The movement slowed and Pietro looked up at her. Her hands fell to her sides and she sat down again. 

 

“You should probably watch your speed there, Quicksilver,” she told him, rolling her eyes as he approached her. 

 

“That’s what HYDRA used to call me…” Pietro sighed, one hand over his ribs as he caught his breath. Iskra considered apologizing but he seemed unaffected by the memory. Digging in his pocket, he glanced at his phone. “But you’re right. I think it’s time to go home. Looks like Wanda needs us.”

 

“What does she need us for?” she asked quietly.

 

“It doesn’t say what,” he shoved the phone back in his jacket and extended his hand to her. “Just that we should get back quickly. I know you don’t exactly like it, but-”

 

“It’s fine,” Iskra cut him off, letting him pick her up. He looked around to make sure that no one was watching and in a blink, they were gone. 

 

When the world stopped spinning, Iskra was laying on the couch. Wanda and Pietro were standing over her, both of them frowning. She’d been conscious the entire time, but it was like reality took a moment to catch up to her. At least her body seemed to handle the speed better each time. She rolled her neck from side to side, making sure she didn’t have whiplash. 

 

“What’s going on?” her voice was small and weak. Wanda’s eyes flashed red as she looked from Iskra to her brother and back again. 

 

“Speaking of HYDRA…” Pietro spoke first. “Wanda’s found some new information...”

 

“About you,” his twin finished for him. Her expression was unreadable. “It looks like the mystery behind the nature of your abilities has finally been uncovered.”

 

Iskra sat up slowly, bracing herself on the arm. Pietro sat beside her and handed her a manilla envelope. Printed on the cover was her name and a big red stamp reading CLASSIFIED. Attached with a paperclip was a photograph of a dark haired infant. She ran her fingertips over it, trying to remember ever having been that small. 

 

“What does it say?” Iskra asked, hands shaking. 

 

“Open it and read for yourself,” Wanda nodded, even going so far as to pat Iskra’s shoulder. It was the first physical contact between them. “Is better what way.”

 

“It’s alright, dragӑ. We are in this together,” Pietro reassured her. 

 

Taking a deep breath, Iskra flipped the cover and began to read. 

 

Subject: 028

Name: Iskra Dimir

Birthdate: January 1989

Codename: To Be Determined

 

Subject 028 was surrendered to HYDRA by her legal guardians on this 22nd day of April 1989. After initial evaluation, the base pediatrician has determined that she is roughly four months old. The legal guardians report ‘inexplicable abilities’ and an inability to contain them. Initial evaluation shows electrical molecular disruption including but not limited to manifestation of lightning like phenomena. 

 

Subject 028 has been approved for enhancement.

 

Iskra turned the page, thumbing through several more photographs of scientists sporting painful looking scorch marks and an infant obscured behind a wall of arcing electricity. With them was another report. 

 

Subject 028 is responding to enhancement remarkably well. In addition to improved molecular disruption, she has also developed transdimensional teleportation similar to Wagner but the ability appears to be uncontrolled. 

 

“My parents gave me up…?” Iskra asked, letting the folder fall from her hands. When it landed on the carpet, the photographs spilled out and she looked away. “Because they couldn’t handle me?”

 

“The file says you can teleport, Iskra. Do you think you can move other people?” Wanda demanded. “Do you have any idea how useful that would be? We could infiltrate HYDRA and take them down from the inside out.”

 

Pietro glared daggers at his sister, urging her silently to stop. It was much too soon to start recruiting her help. She was a person, not an asset.

 

“What? I’ve never done that. I don’t… My parents gave me up,” she was in complete awe. It felt as though her world was crashing down around her, and yet, she wasn’t completely surprised. Her mother found her after the HYDRA base she was being held at was destroyed. It shouldn’t matter who her biological parents were. Her mother was the woman that cared for her, provided for her, wiped away her tears and protected her. Her mother was the woman that never came home when the reactors descended into meltdown. 

 

She took a deep breath and gathered the folder, rereading the printed reports. How many more would there have been had the base not been destroyed? What had they done to her? 

 

“I didn’t know that I could teleport. And who is Wagner?” Iskra asked, handing the file back to Wanda. 

 

“We don’t know,” the twin replied, setting the folder aside and wringing her hands. “But transdimensional teleportation is kind of a big thing. You do realize that, don’t you?”

 

“Of course she does,” Pietro interjected. “But we won’t ask you to explore this unless you want to. We’re not HYDRA, Wanda.”

 

“I want to be helpful. But I want to start with the things I already know I can do,” Iskra glanced between the twins, her gaze finally resting once again on the folder. “You said the copper balls could be a weapon. I want to learn to use them.”

 

Pietro nodded and wordless stood. Within a second, he was sitting down again, holding the small case in his hands. He flipped the tiny clasp and opened it, handing the balls to Iskra. 

 

“Copper is very conductive,” he explained. “You should be able to charge them and maybe even drive them through objects using your electricity. Use them responsibly, dragӑ. And not in here, I don’t need to replace our tv  again.”

 

The last word was obviously directed at Wanda who huffed and rolled her eyes. Neither twin was particularly eager to retell the story of when a particularly heated argument led to the television flying out the window. 

 

Iskra rolled the balls in her palm, allowing just the tiniest amount of power to arc between them. When she felt as though she understood the fundamentals of it, she returned them to their box and set it aside. “So what now?” she asked. 

 

“We have to return this file before HYDRA realizes that it’s gone,” Pietro leaned forward to pick up the folder. “Wanda took it, so I may as well be the one to take it back. In and out. Shouldn’t be gone longer than a half hour.”

 

“Pietro no, I-” Wanda began but her voice trailed off. It was difficult enough, and admittedly stupid to have taken it in the first place. Pietro would be able to pass by HYDRA’s security virtually undetectable. When she’d gotten the intel that the file existed, she  should have alerted him rather than going on her own. But she’d wanted to be helpful. To show some kind of respect and loyalty to the woman her brother had given his heart to. “Fine. But be careful.”

 

“Wait, what? You’re going back into a HYDRA base?” Iskra’s voice hitched in her throat. “You can’t!”

 

“S’ alright. They can’t catch what they can’t see,” he chuckled and kissed her forehead. “But they  will notice if this isn’t put back where it was. Which, if I assume correctly, was filed under  Unrecovered Asset . Right beside ours.”

 

Wanda only nodded solemnly. The truth was that HYDRA was still looking for all of them, and they always would be. For as long as one head of the serpentine organization was still alive, it would try to bite them. 

 

“Fine. Go. But be careful and come back  quickly!” Iskra buried her face in her hands, unable to watch him leave. Even if he moved too fast for her to actually see anyway. 

 

When she looked up again, Wanda was staring out the window, still wringing her hands.

 

“Thank you,” she muttered.

 

“You’re welcome. You’re one of us now,” Wanda didn’t turn as she spoke. “Well… you always have been, really.”

 

“I guess you’re right,” Iskra flexed her hands, shaking them to dispel the ache in her wrists. “I can’t just sit here and wait for him to come back. Every second feels like an hour. I’m going to go to the corner store and get some wine. I’ll have my phone…”

 

Wanda didn’t say anything, just nodded as Iskra slid from the couch and out the apartment door, grabbing her backpack on the way out. As she walked down the stairs, she realized that this was the first time that she was going out on her own. She’d walked home from the market alone, but this was different. It showed strength but what was more, it showed just how far she’d come since Pripyat. 

 

The bell over the door chimed as Iskra stepped into the shop. It was empty except for an elderly man in the corner, hovering over a display of vodka. And a young woman behind the counter.

 

“Can you recommend a decent bottle of white?” Iskra asked the shopkeeper. The woman smiled, turning to the rack behind her. 

 

“I’ll find something nice for you,” she said over her shoulder. “Have a look around in the mean time?”

 

“Alright,” Iskra shrugged, wandering over to a rack of clothing. There wasn’t a wide array of things for women but something did catch her eye. Amidst the various articles was a blue beanie with the word  NYOOM embroidered in the fabric. 

 

It reminded her of Pietro and she chuckled at the mental image of him wearing it. He was, after all, buying her all sorts of gifts all the time. Maybe she should repay the favor, even if it was was just a silly hat. She took it from the rack and returned to the counter.

 

“I’d like this too,” she told the woman and reached into her bag in search of her satchel of money. Her phone was vibrating. Somehow it had gotten switched to silent. Iskra tossed the money on the counter and unlocked the screen of her phone. She’d received several messages from Pietro. 

 

Iskra?

 

I just got back and Wanda is asleep and you’re not here...

 

Where the fuck are you?

 

ISKRA?!

 

Fuck. She hadn’t realized she’d been gone for a half hour already. Apparently Pietro’s mission hadn’t taken as long as he’d anticipated. 

 

Went out for wine. Heading back. Sorry.  She typed back. He replied almost instantly. Apparently he typed as quickly as he ran. 

 

Don’t scare me like that, dragӑ. You said you’d tell me when you went out. I was worried.

 

Iskra took the bag from the counter, smiled to the shop keeper and practically ran back to the apartment. She was out of breath when she opened the front door. The stairs had winded her. 

 

“I’m sorry ‘Tro. I told Wanda where I was going. I thought I’d beat you back,” she set the bag on the kitchen counter and fished the hat from inside. “But I got something for you.”

 

“You can’t beat me anywhere. M’ too quick,” Pietro told her proudly, enveloping her in his arms. “I put the file back and no one saw me. Now what’s the present?”

 

Iskra detached herself from his embrace and revealed the hat, blushing. A smile spread across Pietro’s lips and he chuckled, taking the hat from her and pulling it over his silver hair. 

 

“I know it’s silly but it reminded me of you and you’re always getting things for me and-,” she explained but he he cut her off with a deeply passionate kiss. 

 

“I love it. And I love you, Iskra,” he nuzzled her cheek when he pulled away. “Now, I wonder why Wanda was sleeping in the middle of the afternoon.” 

 

As Pietro turned, Wanda appeared in the doorway of her bedroom as if she’d been summoned. Her hair was messy and tangled looking and her eyes were watery. She braced herself on the frame and sighed. Pietro took a step towards her, but his sister held her hand up for him to stop. Her gaze drifted from where the pair stood in the kitchen to the copper balls, still sitting in their case on the end table. 

 

“Wanda-” Pietro began, but his sister raised a single finger to her lips, shushing him. 

 

Something rustled outside the front door, sliding against the wood and emitting a strange high pitched whining sound. Iskra slinked across the carpet towards the table, the distance between her and the twins growing with every step. It felt as though the world was stuck in slow motion, drawing out the unknown of what was coming. But she knew she had to get to her weapons. Whatever was outside the door couldn’t be good.

 

A red glow enveloped the front door just in time for the wood to splinter, exploding outward and ricocheting off the force field. When the energy dissipated, dust clouded the hallway. Iskra gasped, her hand grasping at the copper balls and almost dropping them. She took several more steps backward, knocking a lamp over in the scramble. 

 

“Target locked,” a voice boomed and Pietro sprang into motion, pushing Wanda back into her bedroom and rushing toward the intruder.

 

But for every black clad soldier he took down, two more appeared in the hallway. They were running up the steps, bursting out from other apartments, even coming down from the vents. The distinct smell of ozone pierced the air and Iskra bit her lip. Electricity crawled down her arm, dancing around the spheres in her palms and turning them black. 

 

When she looked down, the copper balls were levitating several inches away from her flesh. Lightning cracked and they shot out, pinging off the walls and striking a soldier square between the eyes. He dropped like a brick and the man behind him doubled over in pain, blood pouring from his mouth in a torrent. Like the jet pilot, his brain had liquified inside his skull. 

 

“Pietro!” Iskra called out, barely able to keep the copper balls airborne as they jumped between targets. She stumbled back further, until her back was almost against the living room window. The curtains rustled against her bare arms, startling her. But then, something bit into her flesh and she looked down. A small dart protruded from her upper arm, still vibrating from the impact. 

 

Pietro whipped around, finally visible as more than a blur of motion. Sweat was beading on his forehead and his blue eyes widened with fear. 

 

Iskra’s vision shifted and everything took a very hard turn left. If felt like minutes passed before she realized she was laying on her side, but it had only been a fraction of a second. Her perception was slowing down, eyes growing heavy and muscles weak. 

 

Someone was lifting her from the carpet. Pietro? 

 

No. She was still watching him from across the room as he disarmed intruders, trying desperately to cross the apartment to her. 

 

“Target neutralized,” someone said and Iskra looked up into the dark eyes of a HYDRA soldier. 

 

“Iskra! Fight back!” Pietro screamed, brushing off the hands of those who tried to keep him stationary. He was moving so quickly he seemed to be vibrating. 

 

Fight back? A novel concept. Iskra concentrated, reached out to the atoms from which the entire world was comprised. Then, on a slightly larger scale, the molecules. But the map by which her electricity usually flowed through was clouded. She couldn’t concentrate past the hard plastic prodding her side and how impossibly  heavy her head felt as it lolled to the side. 

 

Iskra tried, at the very least, to push herself out of the grasp of the man who was holding her but it was in vain. The soldier shifted her weight, tossing her over his shoulder with no effort whatsoever. As he turned towards the window, Iskra caught Pietro’s eyes again. Tears ran down his cheeks in a steady river. 

 

The living room glowed red, casting the entire scene in a rather fitting hue as the sound of a dozen necks breaking at the same moment filled the air. The remaining soldiers fell to the carpet, fluid dripping from their noses and mouths. 

 

“I’ll find you!” Pietro howled, making a mad dash towards Iskra but it was too late. Her captor lept from the window and they flew for several seconds before the cord connected to his harness caught and whipped them upwards towards the helicopter above.

 

I hope so,  she thought as unconsciousness crept in from the corners of her vision, blanketing her world in darkness.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
